A Brief History of Telepathy
by braveten
Summary: Doctor John Smith, an undercover telepath, is living peacefully at his mansion in New York when a woman named Rose Tyler recruits him to fight in a war that has both of their futures hanging in the balance.


A/N: Hi guys! I've been working on this story for a while now and am excited (and nervous) to be finally posting it! This will be thirty chapters in total and is essentially a rough X-Men AU. (Very rough, I basically just took the powers from the X-Men universe and the idea of a war between the mutants and anti-mutants.) Enjoy!

"He's a myth."

"Myths are what we need."

Rose tapped her pen against the desk. The once smooth end was now ragged, having been chewed for several years. It was her favorite pen.

She knew that Jack was staring at her and that he was desperate. But this idea was absurd. He knew it. She knew it.

"Rose," he continued, "give it a chance. I've had Martha do some research…"

"Why are we wasting Martha's time on this dead end?" Rose protested, dropping her pencil and rubbing her palm against her forehead, trying to appease a headache that she could feel coming on.

Jack looked hurt, and she didn't have to look at him to tell. "Because it might _not_ be a dead end. Are you even listening to me?"

Rose sighed. "Look, Jack. Trust me, I'm more open to suggestions than anybody else around here, but we're working with a limited budget. And you wanting to go chase some mythical telepath might not be the most efficient way to spend our funds."

"You want to win this war, don't you?" Jack asked, a slight edge in his voice.

She remembered—years ago, Jack laughing beside her on a bench in a park in London, the war silently lurking in their futures. He used to call her Rosie. Now she saw the stress lines beside his eyes, the lack of sleep showing… They were both still so young.

"Of course I do." She'd never been more sure about anything in her life. She'd moved to America to fight in this war. So had he.

Rose had heard rumors of people with new, different abilities. She knew they needed to get their hands on them before the other side, the Syndicate, did. There was a viral video of a test subject who could create vacuums in the air, suffocating people. Word spread that the video was just war propaganda, but nobody was certain.

Jack was still looking at her. She continued looking at her pen. Rose placed the pen on the table and focused her thoughts, spinning it on its tip. Jack's gaze flickered down to the spinning pen. "What could you do with a thousand dollars?" Rose offered. "I'll give you Martha, too."

Rose wasn't in charge of the budget—that was the board's job, and more specifically President Harriet Jones's job, but she certainly had influence. And her influence could easily get Jack a thousand dollars and Dr. Martha Jones for his little side project.

He smiled softly. "I could do plenty. Trust me, Rose—you won't regret this."

She didn't respond to that. "Just keep me posted, alright? And don't take too long."

Jack got up and went to the door. He stopped, hand on the knob. "Hey, Rose?"

Rose looked up. "Yeah?"

"Take care of yourself, alright?" He offered another smile.

"Yeah."

There was another meeting with Jack a month later. Rose had spent most of the last couple of weeks fighting on the front lines of the war, the border between the Eastern and Western United States. Rose didn't kill, though. They'd been asking—no— _begging_ her to kill for a while now.

It didn't go with her moral values. That's what she always said.

(She wasn't sure she could. That's what she never said.)

"He's real, Rose," Jack said, his features lit like a Christmas tree, the lines beside his eyes still present. Crow's feet.

Rose bit her lip. She'd learned a long time ago not to believe things until she saw them with her own eyes, even though she trusted Jack. It was just better not to raise her hopes on something that wouldn't be worth it. "How do you know?"

Jack gave her a smug look, his arms folded across his chest. "I met him."

"And is he… With us or against us?"

Jack's smile faltered. "He's with us, ethically, but he doesn't want to fight. Doesn't believe in it. He's a pacifist or something like that."

 _So am I,_ she wanted to remind him. "Can he be convinced?"

"I'm not sure," Jack admitted. "But, Rose, we ran some quick tests… He's…"

Rose blinked. "He's what, Jack?"

"Stronger than you."

It was a mansion, really. In the middle of a large green field, in the middle of nowhere. Rooms upon rooms upon rooms. Probably the largest house she'd ever seen.

"Does he have family?" Rose asked as she drove them towards the building in a small black car.

Martha shook her head. "Just him. No related family left. He lives with his adoptive family, though."

"How do they afford _that?_ " Rose wasn't sure she could afford a dusty corner in that house, or a blade of grass on the property surrounding it.

"His parents were filthy rich. And he's a scientist. He's invented weird chemical formulas to solve all types of rare diseases—the guy is a hero."

Rose looked at Martha, who seemed caught up in admiring the stranger. Their car moved past the open gates of the mansion. "Any other background on him?"

"He was born in England, grew up there with his adoptive family, and just moved into this house when his grandparents died and left it to him. And, well, there's his legs…"

Rose looked up at Martha, her eyebrows drawing together. "His legs?"

Martha looked out towards the building. "He can't walk. He said that there's this medicine that can fix his legs, but it messes up his powers. I didn't get much details about that, though. Seemed a bit touchy."

They got out of the car and approached the wooden front door. Rose knocked loudly. The house seemed to loom over her as though she were an ant. She took a step back from the doors, eyeing the giant walls, feeling as if they were going to fall down on top of her at any given moment. The house was intimidating, to say the least.

An older man answered, swinging the door open. "Rose?"

Rose nodded and glanced down at his legs. The man was standing. "And you are…?"

"Not the Doctor," the man confirmed, noting her confused look. "I'm Wilfred. You can call me Wilf. Come on in."

They entered the house and Rose looked around appreciatively. The outside matched the inside—very Victorian, though it felt far more homely on the inside. Martha smiled at Wilfred. "Nice to see you again."

Wilfred nodded. "Lovely to see you as well, Martha. The Doctor is upstairs."

They went up the tall staircase. Fine art decorated the hallways and the walls. Rose wondered what sort of a man would live in this giant house. _A telepath,_ she mused. _Maybe he got sick of hearing thoughts all day long._

A red-headed woman greeted them at the top of the stairs. "Hello there," she said with a curious tone, looking directly at Rose.

"Donna, this is Rose," Wilfred introduced. "Rose, this is my granddaughter."

Donna smiled and shook Rose's hand. "Nice to meet you," she greeted.

"Nice to meet you, too," Rose responded politely.

They arrived at a nondescript wooden door. A framed replica of Starry Night was hanging on the door, and the splash of colors seemed to stand out amongst all the dark greens and browns of the rest of the house. Wilf knocked on the door. "Doctor?"

The door swung open.

The Doctor, the telepath—whatever he was called—was not what Rose had expected.

He had crazy brown hair that stuck up in all directions. A black ACDC shirt and jeans covered his skinny, tall frame. His face and arms were covered in freckles and his sideburns were long, yet fitting. He was sitting in a silver wheelchair, and Rose could feel the metal in front of her. He was grinning—white teeth shining at Rose.

"I'm the Doctor," he greeted, extending his hand towards her. He turned to Martha, acknowledging her. "Martha, how are you?"

Martha blushed, Rose noticed. _Oh._ "I'm good, how about you?" Martha asked.

"Brilliant," the Doctor answered. He turned back to Rose, hand still extended.

 _Oh, right, he had introduced himself to her._ "I'm Rose." She shook his hand. His grip was strong.

"Rose. Last name?"

"Tyler."

"Rose Tyler," he repeated, rolling both of the 'r's. "Would you all like to go downstairs so we can chat?"

He took a ramp to get downstairs. They sat around a kitchen table, which had three chess sets laid out with different pieces in different positions.

"A pastime," he explained.

She wondered if he was reading her thoughts. Suddenly, Rose felt encroached upon. She'd completely forgotten about his powers.

He smiled at her warmly. _Had he heard her? How much could he hear, if anything?_ "Do you play, Rose Tyler?" The Doctor leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his unruly hair. The sight was mesmerizing.

"I used to," she noted. _The park. Jack. A chessboard in front of them._ God, that had been so long ago.

He began setting up a new game, placing all of the pieces on the board while hardly glancing at them. As if he did it every day.

Rose moved to sit across from him so she could see the board. Wilfred had wandered off somewhere and now it was just the four of them.

Donna looked around. "Would any of you like tea?"

"Sure," the Doctor answered.

Rose and Martha nodded as well. Donna walked to the other side of the room.

An awkward silence rose. The Doctor cleared his throat, placing the pawns in their perfect positions. "Listen, Rose, Martha. I'm afraid you may be wasting your time here. I support your cause completely, but I don't believe in war. Therefore, I'm not sure I can be of any assistance to you."

"Is there any way you could be convinced?" Rose asked.

He was done setting up the chessboard. He moved a knight (an interesting first move), then looked at Rose and gestured for her to play along.

She moved a pawn two spaces forward.

"I'm not sure," he admitted. "I'm afraid I'm at a bit of a crossroads. I follow the news and I see the effort you all are making… But combat isn't exactly for me."

Rose could convince this man. She was sure of it. "We don't have a telepath," she admitted. Maybe honesty was the best way to go here. "If we had one, this war could— _would_ —be over far, far faster. Besides, it's not like you'd be on the front lines… We'd find a way to utilize your powers without direct combat."

The Doctor moved another piece and looked at her pointedly. "Unlike you."

"What?"

"I've seen you," he said, "on the television. On the front lines."

Rose swallowed. "I don't kill people."

"I know."

Donna came back with the tea.

The Doctor was still looking at her. His gaze was heavy—like something crushing her chest. She didn't like talking about her powers, or the fighting. Especially not the fighting. "They hardly ever mention that you don't kill people, but I've noticed." He pauses. "Would you mind showing me?"

Rose got this question a lot. She closed her eyes and placed her hands flat on the table. Energy surged through her, an intoxicating feeling. His wheelchair floated a couple of inches above the ground.

"Wow, that's… Incredible."

She placed him back down. His hands were firmly gripping the sides of the wheelchair, as if he was on a rollercoaster. "You'd be a great help in our effort," she explained. "You said you believe in our cause."

He leaned forward and moved another chess piece. He took one of her rooks without a word. She hadn't even noticed her mistake. "Don't you want to see my power?"

"How could I _see_ it?"

"I'd show you, but I'd need your permission."

She looked at Martha nervously. Martha shrugged. "I did it. It doesn't hurt or anything."

Well, she did need to know that he was the real deal. But at the same time, the idea of someone being inside of her head…

"Okay."

She didn't know why she trusted him. She didn't know why that word had left her mouth and yet, there it was, floating in the open space between them.

The Doctor started to wheel over to her side of the table. "Alright, then."

Rose bit her lip. "Why do you need to come over here?"

"Touch telepathy makes people less uncomfortable, because it's more of a direct connection," he explained, as though talking to a small child. Rose shifted in her seat, uncomfortable. "It's stronger, too—feels more real."

When he got close enough, she was able to get a better look at his face. The freckles covered his nose, cheeks, and forehead. They were subtle, though, easy to miss if one didn't look closely enough. His eyes were large and brown, looking directly at her. Rose felt as though he was already looking into the darkest depths of her soul, and he hadn't even touched her yet.

(She wondered if he'd been reading all of her thoughts since she'd entered the building. The possibility horrified her.)

He brought up his index and middle finger to her left temple. She watched his fingers and found herself shaking, praying he wouldn't notice. Telepaths had been rumored since the war had started, but she'd never expected she'd actually meet one. "What do I…?"

The Doctor smiled softly. "Just don't fight it. I'm just going to the outermost layers of your mind—I won't be able to see anything you don't want me to see, okay?"

Rose nodded. She let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding as his fingers finally brushed against her skin. When he finally entered her mind, she was surprised by how prominent the sensation was. It was a warm presence in her skull, warm yet foreign. She heard herself gasp, but it sounded as though it was happening miles away.

An image flashed in her mind. It was of herself, on the other side of the table. It wasn't from her own memory, she realized. It was from his.

His fingers left her temple and she was brought back to the physical plane. "That was…"

Their faces were only a couple of inches apart. Rose pulled back and adjusted her hair, trying to find her composure. Her mind ached for a couple of seconds, as if somehow missing his presence.

She licked her lips. "How does it work?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. I just know how to use it."

"What can it do?"

There was a subtle shift in his features, a hint of something darker. Only for a moment, then it was gone. "It's your turn."

The Doctor wheeled himself back to the other side of the table.

Rose blinked at him, wondering if he was avoiding the topic, or if he just didn't know what she meant. She went along with it and moved her bishop. "Doctor, think about what would happen if we lost this war."

"I have," he admitted. "And I agree that the consequences are impossibly large. I bet that's why you left Europe?"

England had allied with the Eastern United States the moment the war had started. Other countries had also either allied up or remained neutral, but none were quite as involved in the United State's war as England was. Rose had left London immediately to head to D.C. and help in any way that she could.

The air seemed to get caught in her throat. "Yeah. So you'll help us?"

He paused, eyes fixated on the chessboard. Then he looked up, and she got that same feeling of him staring not at her but _through_ her. "On my own terms."

"Wonderful."


End file.
